


Family

by UndeservingHero



Category: Batman (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Character Study, Grief Study, Multi, Murder, Superbat isn't prevailent in this, This is mostly about the family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-15 00:54:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11795052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UndeservingHero/pseuds/UndeservingHero
Summary: There's been a death in the family and the mantle of the Bat stands empty. But before there can be a successor, there has to be grief.





	Family

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this monster for about two and a half months. I just couldn't get my ass in gear with it. But here it is. All finished and shiny. Enjoy.
> 
> I've added the art in the middle where it goes. Hope you like it. :D

Dawn arrived in Gotham as it usually did; wet and under the cover of heavy, pregnant clouds threatening the city with yet more rain. The unusual, inexplicable thing was the light that reflected back off the bellies of those same clouds; unanswered even after hours of burning with the brightness of a winter sun.

A handkerchief was retrieved from a miraculously dry pocket to wipe the water from the thick lenses of Gordon’s glasses as he sighed before motioning for Bullock to turn off the Signal. Disappointed sadness coloured his face.

“Wonder what’s up that’s keeping Batman away this long,” Bullock muttered, looking out over the city--still dripping with the shadows of the night like paint.

Gordon returned the lenses to the bridge of his nose, spying the barest hint of the sunrise through a break in the clouds near the far off horizon over Metropolis. It seemed like the harbinger of false hope to Jim. “I don’t know.”

It had been a long time since he lied to Bullock. Years. He didn’t like it any more now than he had then.

Before two straight nights of Batman not showing up to answer the call, Jim had known.

He didn’t believe in coincidences anymore.

Bruce Wayne had died three days ago.

He had been at the scene himself. No foul play. Just a drunk driving too fast that had T-boned Mr. Wayne’s Lamborghini on the driver’s side. He’d never had a chance with how caved in the car had been.

Jim shook his head. It was a goddamned tragedy. Especially with his kids being spread out like they were. Mr. Pennyworth had assured him that he would get them all together in one place for the services.

It had always been conjecture, really, that Bruce was Batman. Always just an educated hunch that his twenty years on the force had reinforced.

Now, he had everything but concrete proof.

Bruce Wayne was--had been-- the Batman.

What he wouldn’t give to be ignorant again.

“Must be important,” Bullock said, slicing into Jim’s thoughts as he kept up his end of the conversation Jim had completely forgotten. “He’s usually here within an hour or so. Never taken him a whole day. Much less two.” Bullock lit a cigarette and shook his head. “As much as I don’t like him, I hope fighting these nutjobs didn’t finally catch up with him.”

Jim swallowed thickly, tasting the ash from Bullock’s cigarette as if he’d pushed it against his tongue to snuff it out. “So do I, Harvey. I really do.”

After all, it was only conjecture.

 

Steady hands knotted his tie as neatly as he always did at the base of his throat before pulling his sweater on and tucking the tails carefully away into slacks pressed within an inch of their lives. The creases were so sharp, he wondered if Bruce might have successfully defended himself with them.

The thought brought a new wave of heaviness to Alfred’s heart as he squared himself in front of the dressing mirror.

He looked himself in the face and noticed for the first time in a while the lines around his eyes and mouth, the sagging of his jowls. It seemed that time had been catching up with him for a while.

He had hoped that Bruce and his children would be the ones to bury _him_. The pain of knowing that would not be the case made the facade crack and crumble, driving him to swipe at his eyes with the handkerchief he had just folded into a neat square.

Three days had done nothing to soften the blow that hit like a train every morning. If anything, the time had made it worse. The insulation of shock had worn off.

As he pulled open the door to his rooms, he idly wished for the feeling of wooly down to be pressed tight to his ears and eyes.

Sadly, he was thankful.

Not that Bruce was dead. Never that.

He was thankful one of those psychotic maniacs hadn’t been responsible. When Commissioner Gordon had shown up personally to deliver the news, he had known then that he had lost him. He had only prayed that the Joker hadn’t gotten a chance to torture him. It had been the strangest sensation to hear “hit by a drunk driver” and not “flayed and tortured”.

Sighing with grief and the weight heavy in his lungs, he trudged toward the kitchen to begin the preparations for the day.

He catalogued who liked what for their breakfast and made plans as to how he would manage to corral all seven of the children to the kitchen at once. The thoughts laid his pain to rest momentarily. Having a purpose eased the guilt of not being able to save his son.

He pulled up short in the doorway at the sight of all of the children already up and in the kitchen. He blinked owlishly at the unfamiliar sight. All of them were working together to produce an industrial sized amount of food for the lot of themselves. Well, with the exceptions of Richard and Damian who sat at the table, out of the way of the controlled chaos.

Barbara was offering direction to the others as she chased down sausage on one of the cook tops with a grill on it. Jason was astutely ignoring her, however, earbuds planted firmly in his ears. He was quietly manning one of the huge stove ranges on his own; five different things on at once. Cass and Stephanie were cracking eggs into an oversized stainless bowl. Tim was busy making his way through two loaves of bread, slowly turning them into toast.

A wave of feeling utterly pointless hit Alfred then, realizing that the brood of children he had nurtured and raised no longer needed him.

A hand, heavy and so like Bruce’s landed on his shoulder, shaking him back to himself. He focused on Richard’s face. His blue eyes, so bright and warm were sad and underlined by the dark circles of exhaustion.

“Morning, Alred. Want some tea? Damian’s been whining about no caffeine.” Richard glanced behind him and leaned in to avoid anyone else hearing him. “I think he could use the company.”

Alfred stood motionless for a beat too long.

Richard straightened and looked at Alfred’s face for a moment. He had an uncanny ability to pick out what one was thinking. “We thought we’d make breakfast together. As a family. We never did it when he was here...” The regret was left unspoken as he looked back at the group. “We’re all in a weird place right now.”

He reached up and patted Richard’s hand, finding solace in the fact that he wasn’t alone in feeling like a rowboat that had been unmoored in the middle of a hurricane. “I think tea would be grand, Master Richard. Thank you.”

Richard offered a smile. It was smaller and more strained than usual, but he _was_ trying. “You got it, Alfred.”

Richard made his way to the same cooking range Barbara was tending to with a kettle full of water, and Alfred was left with a charge. He was left with a purpose again. Damian.

The boy was slumped slightly in his chair. It was probably a combination of tiredness from not being accustomed to rising so early in the morning and emotional turmoil.

Alfred righted himself before going to sit at the table next to him.

Without prompting or warning, Damian silently leaned over and pressed his forehead against Alfred’s shoulder. He said nothing.

Alfred repressed the flood of anguish for the youngest son and reached up to pet through his long hair.

No words were spoken between them. There were none to say.

It wasn’t Richard who approached them next, prompting Damian to sit up straight and stare at the wood grain in the table instead of meeting anyone’s eyes.

Jason, earbuds hanging around his neck, gently sat a fully dressed plate in front of both of them. His teal eyes were downcast, avoiding meeting Alfred’s, but none of the children could fool their former caretaker.

The area bordering his dark lashes was red from tears, and he had new scabs on his knuckles. Alfred had seen the markings before. Self-loathing was the only type of pain that could cause that kind of damage.

He doubted the tears were from any sort of physical pain. Not from Jason.

His heart ached.

Voice slightly strangled by years of worrying about the second son, he said, “Thank you, Master Jason.”

Teal eyes finally flipped up to meet brown. He was silent for a moment, lips pressed together as if he were choosing his words. Finally, he said, “You’ve taken care of us through all of our pain... our grieving. It’s our turn.” Without another word, he turned and put the earbuds back in before returning to his cooking range that Richard had been watching over.

Richard seemed to be glad to be shooed away.

With a lump in his throat, he watched them squabble over who would do what and where something was. It felt almost normal.

Master Bruce had built a family of the lonely and the broken into something so strong it was the only barrier between total chaos and Gotham City. He _had_ left the world a better place.

He was just sorry that no one but the people in this room would ever know it.

 

Damian pushed food down his throat--the lot of it tasting like ash--while the family sat around the table and talked about the day they were about to face. He wished he could blame the foul taste on Jason. Instead, it was some faceless bastard who had cut a hole into the tapestry of his life.

He had wanted to go find the murderer, but no one else would help. Not even Jason, who was second only to himself in combat. He didn’t know if it was fear or apathy.

He was leaning towards apathy since none of them were even taking patrols.

None of them seemed to care that his Father had been murdered. None of them wanted justice. None of them were using their considerable resources to locate the killer.

It was infuriating.

Alfred seemed to be the only one that cared properly, but the old man couldn’t very well go out and find the asshole who had stolen his Father from them.

Tim’s phone warbled out a happy little tune, and he rose from the table to answer it.

Damian could hear from the answers that it was Wayne Enterprises business.

He shoved angrily away from the table, leaving half of his breakfast on his plate. He ignored the stares and the questions that followed after him as he stormed out of the kitchen. Blindly, his feet carried him to the Cave.

The computers came on at a touch, still loaded to the arson case Father had been working on.

He swallowed at the sight of a burned out husk and Father’s notes typed neatly on a separate window beside it. He took a deep, steadying breath and sat, making his mind focus on the task at hand like Father had been training him for the past year.

Hours passed like that; his mind buried in the bloody intestines of Gotham’s underbelly. Until he felt a hand on his shoulder and a cup of steaming coffee was set in front of him on the desk. He looked up to see Jason leaning over him, reading the file.

He sneered. “I thought you ‘didn’t think we should get involved’.”

Jason’s eyes didn’t stray, still reading even as he spoke. “In the investigation into Bruce’s death, I still don’t. Gotham needs her Batman though. We’re going to have to get back into it soon.”

Damian shot to his feet and turned to face Jason. The glow from the screens and the lights around the Batmobile the only real illumination, making the new almost-grown-up angles of his face stand out in stark contrast. “Do none of you care that my Father is _dead_ at the hands of some low-life criminal?! Do none of you want _justice?!_ ” His yelling made the bats above stir slightly as it echoed off the rocks.

Jason’s demeanor shifted then in an almost imperceptible way. His teal eyes slid to Damian before anything else moved. His body uncoiled from where he had been slightly bent to put his hand on Damian’s shoulder, unfurling to his full, impressive height.

Whereas the light from the monitors seemed to cast Damian in a stark light, they cradled Jason’s face and curled up in the teal of his eyes, making them glow from within. His voice was low as he spoke. “Do you really think you’re the only one of us who lost a parent. Do you really think that Dick and Tim and Helena and Cass aren’t hurting just as much.” His voice faltered for only a moment. “Do you not think I haven’t considered the Lazarus Pit a hundred thousand times in the last two days?”

He stepped closer until his face was mere inches from Damian’s, and his voice grew slowly louder. “In short, yes. We care. But we’re doing what he would have wanted us to do. We’re letting Gordon do his job. We’re letting the system do the work this time. Even though it chafes like a pair of boots made out of broken glass. Bruce Wayne believed in Gordon. So you better believe his fucking kids will too. So shut the fuck up, and do what he would have wanted!”

The roar that his voice ended on made the bats above stir and take flight, creating a cacophony above that drowned out anything Damian might have said in the moments that followed as he stared up at him.

His own rage seethed in his belly at Todd having the gall to yell in his face. When the bats had settled enough that they could hear themselves think again, he felt the words leave his mouth even though he’d had a moment to think them over. “He’s dead. His way obviously didn’t work.”

Jason huffed a facsimile of a laugh through his nose, but when he spoke, he struggled. The words seemed to cling to the insides of his throat. “If Joker had... if he’d been the one...” He rubbed a hand over his face as if trying to shake loose the cobwebs. “I’d have been with you in a second. But Batman isn’t dead. Bruce Wayne is.”

Damian felt like Todd was trying to imprint something onto him. There was more happening than two people fighting. There was a lesson.

It was a method Father never would have tried.

A begrudging kind of respect slid into the back of Damian’s mind. “So let’s help Gordon.”

Jason seemed to ease slightly, and he backed off without actually moving an inch. “Tim and I already have.”

Damian felt the anger pinch his face as he took a step toward Todd and shook with it. “Why didn’t you tell me that?!”

Jason’s shoulders relaxed, and he leaned back on his hips. His voice was dead calm. “Because what you wanted was revenge; not justice.”

Before Damian could come up with any sort of retort, Jason turned away. “We’re leaving in a half hour for the funeral. Be ready.”

The door to the mansion closed quietly behind him as if chastising Damian for his abrupt loudness.

His “brother’s” words echoed in his head as he followed him back upstairs to change.

 

Jason sat on the edge of what had once been his bed. Nothing had been changed since his own death. He sighed and bent forward to put his face in his hands.

The memory of the last time he’d seen Bruce bombarded his brain. It’d been a few weeks before the accident. Bruce had called him to Gotham as an extra pair of hands during some kind of epidemic set upon the Straits by the Joker.

 

_Everyone was in the city. It had been an ugly week trying to contain the spread of the gas and keep people from exiting the quarantine. By the end of it, they were dead on their feet from exhaustion._

_The rest of the squad had decided to crash at the Manor for convenience’s sake, but Jason was determined to head back to his own safe house in the city. He still couldn’t face sleeping under Bruce’s roof._

_Despite his wishes, Bruce chased him down just as he was gathering up his things to leave the Cave._

_“Jason, wait,” he said, still wearing part of the batsuit below the waist. A black t-shirt hid most of the bandage on his biceps where Joker had managed to get a shot off at him._

_Jason sighed to himself but turned, pulling his backpack on. “I’m too tired for whatever it is you’re about to say, old man.”_

_Bruce rolled his eyes. “I just wanted to make sure you were absolutely positive about not staying. You’re old room--”_

_“Is right where I left it, I’m sure. Unless you’ve done some serious remodeling. I have a safe house in the city. I’m not going that far.” Jason sat astride his bike and pulled on his motorcycle helmet instead of the Hood. “Stop pestering me about it.”_

_Bruce crossed his arms, but didn’t turn. “I worry about you.”_

_Jason couldn’t help the snort that left him. “Right. Little late for that.”_

_“Jason--”_

_Jason slammed his foot down to start the bike and drowned Bruce out. “See you later, old man.”_

_“Jason!” Bruce called after him, but he didn't hear the rest when he laid into the throttle and zoomed off towards Gotham._

 

“‘I worry about you’,” Jason muttered to himself.

He swallowed hard. The burn behind his eyes persisted anyway, and his palms grew wet where they were pressed to his cheeks.

“Fucking asshole,” he growled as he swiped at his face in anger.

He looked around him and tried to ground himself, not quite remembering where he was for a moment.

Car posters were still tacked to the walls. His old clothes--too small by half now--hung neatly beside the new ones he’d strung up two days ago when he’d gotten the call from Alfred.

Jesus what a day that had been.

He’d just come off a thirty-six hour run with his set of vigilantes where they’d been watching a set of nuclear weapons get sold to the highest bidder.

He’d been exhausted from the fighting and the constant numbness of boredom that accompanied watching people for extended periods of time. On the verge of falling into his bed into unconsciousness, he’d picked up the phone when it had Alfred’s cell number on the ID. No scramble. No blocker.

That was when he’d known something was wrong.

He’d arrived back in Gotham less than an hour later.

He hadn’t slept much since then despite the exhaustion from the mission. Stress and--yes--grief made people into hyperboles of themselves.

He looked down at the scabbed over cracks in the skin of his knuckles. Maybe bare-knuckle boxing the Cave wall hadn’t been the best 2AM decision he’d ever had, but it had been that or go find someone to shoot at.

All things considered, it had seemed in bad taste.

He looked up when there was a knock on the door and dried his face a little better. “Yeah?”

The door opened just wide enough for his replacement to stick his head through. “We’re almost ready to go.”

_We_ meaning _The Family_.

He nodded. “Yeah. I’ll follow you there.”

A furrow formed between Tim’s brows, and he came into the room, closing the door again behind him. “You don’t have to, Red. There’s room for everyone.”

Jason shook his head. “I’m not supposed to be here. I’ve got a grave marker right beside where his is going. Someone will recognize me if I show up with all of you.”

Tim sighed. “So wear sunglasses and lose the attitude for an hour. Alfred wants you with us.”

Jason looked away. Always the Alfred card. Tim knew how to get him to do pretty much whatever. Within reason. “Fine.”

Tim’s weight sank down beside him on the mattress. He didn’t say anything for a long moment as he studied the room. “You know, I’ve never been in here before. It’s pretty much exactly what I would have expected.”

Jason snorted. “I’m not sure if I should exclaim about my wounded pride or not.”

Tim shrugged. “It’s just very _you_.”

Jason looked around again. “I was just thinking about how nothing’s changed since I left.” _Including my relationship with the old man._

He grimaced but tried to hide it from Tim.

Who seemed not to notice anyway. “Maybe nothing has. Maybe that’s why it still feels like your room. You’re still you.”

Jason picked at the rough edge of a scab with his thumbnail to avoid Tim’s eyes. “I don’t feel like _me_ most of the time.” He sighed and got up to pull a black turtleneck from a hanger and on over his tank top.

Tim watched him fidget with the collar before rising and reaching up to flip the side of the collar down. While he was there, he grabbed the back of Jason’s neck and pulled him down into a tight hug that allowed for no escape.

Jason stiffened. “What are you doing?”

“Hugging you, last time I checked,” Tim muttered. And almost imperceptibly, “I could use one too.”

Jason slowly relaxed enough to wrap his arms around Tim’s waist. He sighed as he pressed his forehead against the shoulder of the other’s blazer.

It seemed as if the last few days were really catching up to him if he was hugging his _replacement_.

Fingers ruffled through the back of his hair, and he felt his body sag against his will.

“No fair, little bird,” he mumbled.

He could hear the soft edges of Tim’s smile. “Life’s not fair, Jay.”

Wasn’t _that_ the fucking truth.

Regardless, he let himself stay hunched slightly over Tim until Alfred knocked on the door to tell them to get a move on.

 

Tim walked with Jason toward the foyer where the rest of the family had gathered. He glanced up to look at Jason in profile again. He looked exhausted, dark circles clinging to his lower lashes like watercolour dew, and his shoulders bowed under the invisible mountain of weight grief left.

And no matter how much he denied it, he _was_ grieving. Possibly harder than any of the rest of them.

Otherwise, he never would have let Tim touch him for any measurable amount of time. He wouldn’t have allowed himself to be followed down to the Cave last night without even noticing.

Jason was better than that. Possibly better than the rest of them combined. Life had made him and broken the cast.

He was a peculiar combination of dangerously callous and too tender for words when he wanted to be. With not a small amount of sarcasm thrown into the mix. And don’t forget the gallows humor.

Watching him nearly beat his hands broken had been startlingly painful.

Before Bruce’s death, Tim hadn’t been entirely convinced Jason wasn’t an automaton built to do what Batman couldn’t do himself.

But robots didn’t mourn their builders like Jay was mourning Bruce.

It was achingly heartbreaking to watch.

Jason--the perpetually angry, annoyed sonuvabitch--had been nothing but solemn  and even--dare he say it-- _kind_ to everyone else. To the point of texting everyone last night to invite them to breakfast this morning. It was utterly bizarre.

Tim couldn’t really bring himself to complain, but he wished things were back to normal if only so Bruce was still alive.

His mind wandered to the case, going over the details he had sent to Gordon the night before with Jason’s help. Red Hood had done the legwork while he had manned the computers in the Cave.

Together, they’d managed to get enough information to put the drunk away for a while.

A firm hand grasping his elbow and pulling him to the side jerked him out of his reverie and the way of the table he had been about to walk into.

He glanced down, but Jason had already dropped his hand.

“Eyes front, little bird. You’ve got a speech to give. Can’t have you showing up with fresh bruises.”

Tim sighed. “Don’t remind me.”

“Being dead does have its perks.”

Tim snorted and caught the hint of a smile on Jason’s mouth. “I’m sure avoiding responsibilities is chief among them.”

Jason shrugged. “You didn’t hear that from me.”

Tim huffed a quiet laugh as they descended the stairs. “Right. Because I know _so_ many of the formerly dead.”

“Damian, Dick, and I started a club. Your invite’s in the mail.”

Tim blinked and then laughed for real for the first time in days. “I hope it gets lost.”

Jason let himself smile slightly. “Me too, little bird.”

Time kept his own smile but watched as Jason’s melted away as they closed on the rest of the family. He wondered at that but said nothing.

Once everyone was gathered, Dick ushered everyone out to the cars. He had hired drivers to get them to the city since there were so many of them. And Alfred was riding with them for a change.

Tim, Jason, Alfred, and Cass all got into the first car.

Jason pulled a pair of sunglasses from his pocket and slid them up to the bridge of his nose.

Time smiled slightly and rolled his eyes when the lenses turned towards him.

“It was your suggestion,” Jason pointed out.

“One I didn’t think you would actually take seriously.”

“I’m full of surprises.”

They had both begun signing for Cassandra’s benefit as second nature, but she didn’t seem to be paying any attention, staring out the window instead.

Alfred watched them squabble in fond amusement.

 

By the time they arrived at the theatre the service was being held at due to Bruce’s--frankly--enormous following, Jason’s glasses were on upside down, and he was speaking in funny voices to get Cassandra to laugh.

Tim was sorry to see him straighten himself and sober up.

Alfred even seemed to be in better spirits.

When the valet opened the back door for them, Tim steadied himself and took a deep breath before rising from the car. He’d been prepared for the paparazzi. This wasn’t new. This wasn’t what he was dreading.

A hand slid into his, and he turned to smile at Cass, squeezing her fingers. Alfred was on his other side, and he was vaguely aware of Jason’s _presence_ behind him.

The four of them shifted forward when the second car arrived and Damian, Dick, Barbara, and Stephanie got out.

The press, of course, wanted a photo of Bruce Wayne’s sons together.

Begrudgingly, Tim, Dick, and Damian shuffled together to give the papers the front page photo.

Too bad Helena wasn’t there yet.

Tim glanced to the side and saw Jason very pointedly not looking at them. He’d taken to talking quietly to Alfred about something. He seemed even more distressed than he had at the Manor. Alfred seemed to be trying to get him to calm. Lord knew Alfred was the only one who could.

Dick jogged Tim by the shoulder to get his attention and waved everyone else toward the doors. “Time to go in. Tim, you and I need to go find the sound guy.”

Tim sighed but nodded. “I know. I got his email last night. He should be in the sound booth at the back of the theatre. He said he has mic packs for us to wear just in case the other one goes out.”

Dick squeezed his shoulder. “I’m glad one of us knows what he’s doing.” His smile made an appearance, but his eyes never lit up with their usual humor.

Tim shrugged. “You’ve had a lot to deal with the last couple of days. If me knowing where one guy is going to be helps you, I’m glad of it.”

Dick paused before pulling him into a crushing hug. “I’m the oldest. It’s my job to look out for all of you, but thank you.”

Tim hugged him back and heard the cameras clicking behind him. At least _this_ publicity would look good.

He internally sighed at himself for the callous way he was looking at the funeral. But he wasn’t just thinking of his reputation. He was thinking of Wayne Enterprises and what a blow like this could mean for his family’s assets.

There was so much to be done and no time to do it in.

Dick letting him go drew his mind back into his body, and he refocused.

“Let’s go get set up before Gotham’s glittering masses show up.”

Tim made a face but followed after. He saw the rest of their entourage being directed to a lounge off to one side where they could wait in peace and was grateful that they wouldn’t be hounded by the press in the meantime.

 

Getting saddled with a mic pack and testing it out was the quick, painless part of being the son of Bruce Wayne on the day of his funeral.

The hard part, was putting said mic to use.

Dick had done his part; sharing an anecdote about some chaos he had caused as a teen and Bruce’s underwhelming reaction.

The gathered masses had laughed while his children were all wrapped up in their own memories.

Tim looked out over the faces of nearly a thousand people who had known or claimed to have known Bruce. That bit bothered him.

He took a deep breath and let his eyes sweep the crowd to find those Bruce had actually trusted.

“A lot of you know that Bruce took me in as a teenager. I wasn’t the first son he took in. I wasn’t the last. But I wasn’t loved any less just because of the order I came into his house with my brothers. He lost his family very young as all of you know. He built a new one on his own and made sure that all of us were given the tools we needed to survive in a world that wanted to rip our throats out.

“One of Bruce’s defining features was how much he really cared. He cared about his family. He cared about his friends.” He paused to look out over the crowd again, stopping on some of the people Bruce had made sure knew he liked them.

“Even above us, though, I think he cared more about Gotham City than anyone else I’ve ever met. He never flinched from the ugly, chaos of it when he knew there was the beautifully breathtaking side just a heartbeat away.”

Memories of them soaring over the streets together came to him and strangled his voice for a moment.

“The same could be said from me and my brothers. We all gave him a different sort of Hell every day. We have all had our moments of chaos.” He glanced to the side and caught Jason’s eyes behind his lenses before moving on to Damian and Dick. “Some more than others.”

He was no longer speaking to the masses, but to his family. “Together, we’re going to need to work twice as hard just to keep up with the void of caring that he left behind.”

His eyes returned to the crowd. “Bruce--Dad--cared more than any one person _should_ be allowed to care. I can only hope to live up to his legacy as both his son and a citizen of Gotham.”

Applause followed him back to his seat, and Jason leaned over to him as the Mayor took the podium. “You know, if you wanted to run for Mayor, all you had to do was say so.”

Tim snorted and looked as if he was listening to the current Mayor. “As if I have time.”

Jason offered him a crooked smile. “I wouldn’t be all that surprised, little bird, if you could pull it off.”

Tim felt a small welling of pride at the vote of confidence and bumped their shoulders together. “Thanks, Jay.”

 

Dick rubbed at his eyes as they waited for their cars to pull around. He hadn’t slept much--if at all--in the past few days, and it was starting to catch up with him. He knew he was going to crash and burn sooner rather than later.

At least this never ending roller coaster was slowing down.

He looked down when Babs slid her hand into his and squeezed. He turned to meet her eyes. “Everything okay?”

She gave him a wan smile. “Not by a long shot.” She shrugged. “I dunno. I just felt like it.”

She began to pull away, and instead of letting her, he held her fingers fast in his own. “I’m not objecting. I just wanted to make sure...”

She offered another, slightly more honest smile. “Yeah. Okay.”

He felt thoroughly inadequate in the face of trying to console her pain, but he knew she wouldn’t tolerate anything else. Besides, he felt like he needed her too.

Maybe he _wouldn’t_ fuck it up this time.

He pulled her closer to his side until the cars arrived and opened the door instead of waiting for the chauffeurs. He got in last, sitting next to her and taking her hand again while Damian and Stephanie talked about patrols when the divider had been raised.

It was almost normal, lulling him into a place where he let his head sag back against the seat.

Before he knew it, Babs was gently prodding him awake from his impromptu nap. She smiled at him. “Come on, Dick. It’s almost over. Then we can all crash until tonight.”

He made a noise to acknowledge her and rubbed at the sand in his eyes. “I’m okay now. Power naps fix everything.”

She rolled her eyes behind her glasses. “Uh huh.”

He just gave her the most mild expression he could muster before gesturing to the door that still stood open from where Damian and Steph had already used it. “We need to go get ready for the wake, right?”

She nodded and got out before him, letting him stretch briefly before they followed everyone else back into the Manor.

When she set off, he stopped her. “Hey, do you mind going to the garden for a minute to talk?”

She raised a brow at him but shrugged after casting a glance at the house. “Sure. We can’t be long though.”

“Shouldn’t take long.” He offered his hand to her and waited until they were linked again before strolling around the side of the house.

 

Barbara walked through the last of the garden, thinking hard about what Dick had just proposed. It was a risk, but since when had that ever deterred any of them?

“For once in your life, I think you’re right,” she said as they used the kitchen door to the house.

“You do?” He seemed just as surprised as she felt.

“Against my better judgment. Failsafes will be put into place. I won’t allow it otherwise,” she demanded as they dodged around and through the staff that had been hired to feed fifty of Bruce Wayne’s nearest and dearest friends. “I can’t disagree with the logic, but I won’t put everyone else at risk for the gamble.”

Dick raised his hands in supplication. “Whatever you think is best. You and Tim are the brains of this operation.”

She nodded. “Right. I’ll need to talk to him about blueprinting some things and laying out a new grid...” She trailed off in thought, but kept walking beside him.

Dick smiled slightly and led her to go freshen up upstairs. “Sounds like a great idea. I’ll make sure everyone else’s transition is as smooth as I can make it. Tim’s going to be the worst off. I think. Maybe I could move back and help him...”

She watched as his mind wandered to estate matters. He had been more than a little off his game the last few days. Then again, none of them were really okay. They wouldn’t be for a long while. He may have been on the right track though.

As she refreshed her eyeliner and lipstick, she offered him a counter to his proposal.

 

When Duke, Carrie, and Helena arrived before everyone else, Alfred gathered them all in the parlor and insisted on a photograph of all of them together.

It was brilliant, really. The press wasn’t allowed at the wake. Not even some of Bruce’s favourites. They would all be stopped at the gates since they didn’t have an invitation. He planned to send the photos himself to all of the editors that mattered.

So they all settled into a parlor after rearranging some furniture to accommodate all of them. Alfred stood with a large framed photo of Bruce sitting in a chair in front of him. The children arranged themselves with adjustments from the photographer.

As they figured out who went where and how to fold all their limbs, it seemed to finally hit Barbara in that moment. She glanced at all of them, fighting off tears of her own for the first time since she’d heard the news. She held her face stalwartly against the onslaught of liquid sadness that wanted to cascade down her face as the shutter of the camera clicked.

In between a set where there were different cameras used, she dabbed at her eyes and looked around.

Off to her right, framed by the doorway of the parlor, a tall silhouette cut into the light coming from the windows in the hall making her heart leap to her throat.

Black hair, rumpled suit, enormous through the shoulders when they weren’t slouched, and blue eyes so sharp they could cut diamonds.

Her pulse caught up with her in the split second it took her to realize it wasn’t Bruce risen from the grave to haunt all of them.

Clark Kent stood with a shoulder pressed to the doorjam as he waited for the photographer to be done. As she got a better look at him, she realized how haggard he was, missing his glasses and any semblance of order his curly hair might have once had.

The photographer chastised her for not looking his way, but she elbowed Dick in the thigh. He seemed to take notice as he moved toward the doorway.

She rose and asked the photographer to give them a moment due to some family business while he reminded her he was paid by the hour. She waved a hand at him before closing the parlor door behind him while Dick got the other one.

Everyone else seemed not to know what to do as Dick gently pulled Clark into the room by the arm and the pocket door slid closed behind him.

Alfred was the one who approached him with words on his lips. “Master Kent, are you alright?”

Clark seemed to take a moment to focus on his face before he realized there had been a question directed at him. “I didn’t know where else to go. I’m sorry if I interrupted...”

Dick seemed to realize that Clark was in some form of distress and led him over to the chair Duke had been sitting in and guided him to ease onto the seat. He squatted in front of him, pulling his pantlegs up so the fabric would give. “Clark, what happened?”

Clark’s eyes slid over the planes of Dick’s face for a long moment, searching for something. “I... I should’ve... I should’ve been there...”

Dick felt a solidly heavy hand hit his shoulder and looked back to see Jason behind him.

“Let me.” The command was quiet and held no malice like it might have once.

Dick rose and nodded.

“Come on, Clark,” Jason said as he pulled an arm around his shoulders. He looked at Dick. “Keep the eyes from the back of the house.”

Dick nodded. “Call if you need us.”

“I won’t,” Jay said as he left the room with Clark still held up.

Dick sighed, but went to find the photographer to finish taking the photos. As much as he wanted to take control of that situation, he needed to trust Jason.

 

Jason wrestled Clark through the kitchen, avoiding all of the chefs and making it out to the garden.

The overcast grey of the sky and the high hedges surrounding the garden gave them some privacy from wouldbe peeping toms as he sat Clark on one of the stone benches that littered the hedgerow.

He squatted in front of him like Dick had, but didn’t touch him. “Alright, Clark, tell me what’s going on.”

It took a long moment for him to focus this time. His eyes were dull as they pulled up to meet Jason’s. The blue didn’t sparkle like it usually did. His voice was weak when he said, “I should have been here. I could have... I could have saved him.”

“Bullshit.”

Clark’s eyes sharpened slightly. “What?”

“I said, ‘Bullshit’,” Jason said calmly. He was ready to move in case Clark decided to try and clock him. He knew that was a fight he wouldn’t walk away from.

Anger flashed across Clark’s face briefly before the light went out again, and he sagged even further into himself. He mumbled, “I’m Superman. I couldn’t even save my best friend. I couldn’t save...” He choked on the word he was trying to get out as tears burned down his face in fast tracks that dripped off of his unshaven jaw.

Jason saw the mountain collapse then and knew he was going to have to do something. He shifted to his knees and reached forward to pull Clark forward, hugging him hard as he took on the weight of one of earth’s greatest heroes as he sobbed into his collar.

As he let out his suffering, Jason started talking.

“You can’t save everyone. Neither you or Bruce could get that through your damn heads. You just can’t. Even the people you love. You can’t save everyone. Someone, somewhere is going to be dying while you’re saving someone else. You can’t make the choice who lives and dies. You just have to help who you can.”

He sighed. “I know you’re not like us. You’re special. It makes your burden heavier to bear since you feel like you can help more people. And you can. It takes ten of us to do what one of you does.”

“You couldn’t save one man who probably wouldn’t have wanted you to save him anyway. He’d have told you to get out of his city and go help someone that really needed you.”

A choked laugh made its way out of Clark despite the crying.

“You couldn’t save him, and he wouldn’t have blamed you for it. He was a bastard who liked to pretend he could save everyone he came across, but he knew deep down that you just have to do the best you can.”

Jason swallowed and thought about Bruce. He knew what he was saying was the truth. He’d never say it to the others, but he knew it was the God’s honest.

“We can bring him back,” Clark said quietly. Desperate. “Like you.”

Jason laughed bitterly as he remembered his own resurrection, still holding Clark. “He’d kill you. Trust me when I say, he’s better off dead. You don’t come back the same. It breaks you in two to come back. It drives you insane.”

The knowledge seemed to punch what little air had been in Clark’s sails completely out.

“What’s dead should stay dead.” Jason knew he was talking as much about himself as he was about Bruce. It had always been that way. He’d always known he never should have come back.

 

Clark listened to Jason’s heart while he spoke. He couldn’t help it. He needed the comfort of feeling close to someone. The knowledge that Jason was telling the truth about the Lazarus Pit making anyone who rose from it insane completely crushed any hope he had of getting Bruce back.

He pushed back from Jason and mopped at his face with a handkerchief. “I’m sorry. I’m a mess.”

Jason straightened and sat on the bench beside him. “I don’t think any of us are exactly ‘put together’ right now. And like you said, he _was_ your best friend. It’s gonna suck for a long time.”

Clark considered for a long moment on admitting an even bigger secret than Superman. “I guess it doesn’t matter now...” he said almost to himself. “He was more than that, Jay.”

Jason’s brow went up in question, prompting him to go on.

“No one knew about it, but we were... together... when we could get a moment.” His voice was shaky, and his neck above his collar grew hot. He could feel the nervousness of finally telling someone. “It feels good to say it to someone.”

Jason sat in shocked silence for a long moment. “What?”

Clark couldn’t help a small smile. “That’s the reaction I figured I would get. We didn’t want anyone to know in case someone found out who we were. We didn’t want it to endanger anyone else. So we’d meet when we could.”

Jason shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah.”

“No one else knows?” Jason asked.

“No. No one. It was just the two of us. I think Diana figured it out because she’s Diana, but otherwise, no.” He sighed. “We wanted to tell all of you. We were going to...” He swallowed, feeling the tightness in his throat again. “We were going to tell you soon. He wanted to... He wanted to wait until you were all together. He loved all of you so much...”

Jason put his head in his hands and just sat that way for a long time.

Clark heard the tears hitting his palms, but said nothing. He just reached out and put a hand on the back of Jason’s neck over the collar of his sweater.

“You know... I remember when you came back... He wouldn’t talk to anyone about it. It was too fresh, and you were so angry still. Dick was the one that told me what happened.” He thought maybe he shouldn’t tell this story, but it wasn’t going to do anyone any good if no one knew about it. “I confronted him about it. He picked a fight with me to avoid it.”

Jason snorted, face still buried in his hands.

“When he finally calmed down enough, he told me he couldn’t express how glad he was that you were back. But he felt like he failed you because he couldn’t save you in the first place. I know you were mad about it. I know you felt like he should have saved you. I know you probably still feel that way somewhere in your heart, but like you told me... You can’t save everyone.”

Jason nodded faintly.

“When you started to come around again to wanting to be part of the family, he never shut up about you when we were alone. All of you. But he was so happy you were back, he just... didn’t shut up. He had that dad complex where all they do is talk about how smart and bright their kids are.”

Jason looked over at him then, tears still streaking down his face and eyes red. “We are still talking about Bruce Wayne, right?”

Clark laughed. “Yeah. I know. He wanted to give you all the impression that he was this aloof guy without emotions. In reality, he loved you all.”

Jason shook his head. “Still think you got him confused with someone else.”

“No. Not Bruce.” He sobered slightly. “I really am sorry I just dropped in like that. I wasn’t thinking straight.”

Jason shrugged. “I guess, from what you told me, you’re suffering just as much, if not more, than the rest of us. You belong here.”

Clark felt his heart squeeze. “This is your wake for him.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “And fifty people I don’t give a shit about. Come in, eat some food with us, mingle with people none of us care about, get a story if you want, and work through it after when we try to figure out what we’re going to do.”

Clark considered that for a long time. “You’re sure?”

Jason nodded. “Positive. We’re going back on rotations tonight. After we all get a little sleep. You look like you could use some too.”

Clark felt sheepish. “I haven’t slept since I found out.”

“You should have come sooner. We didn’t know or we would have called you.” Guilt laced Jason’s tone.

Clark shook his head. “No one could have known. I’m grateful that you’re welcoming me now.”

Jason shrugged again. “Don’t be. He chose you to share time with. You’re as much part of our fucked up family as the rest of us. You can tell everyone else when you feel it’s right. I’ll keep it a secret til then. I’m good at those.”

Clark smiled slightly. “I know. I trust you.”

Jason offered a small smile before he rose, using the tail of his shirt to wipe his face. He offered a hand to Clark. “I think Babs has a spare pair of Ray Bans you can borrow so you don’t look completely like Superman.”

Clark felt himself flush and reached up to touch beside his eye. “I must have forgotten them.”

“Yeah. It’s alright. We’re masters of disguise around here. Come on. Let’s go find some food and water and get back into the thick of it.”

Clark finally took his hand and let himself be pulled up off the bench. “I suppose.”

 

When they made it back into the kitchen, Jason led Clark up the back stairs to the floor where their bedrooms were. He texted Babs and asked her where her spare set of glasses were before going into her room.

He found them in her night table right where she said they were and handed them over to Clark. “They’re going to be the wrong prescription, but she’s not blind so it shouldn’t give you too much trouble.”

Clark took them and slid them on. “Thank you. If I have to, I’ll just switch over to x-ray.”

Jason shook his head. “Casually talking about x-ray vision with Superman,” he mumbled. “It’s been a weird day.” He sighed. “Do you want to freshen up or...” His mouth dried up.

Clark raised a brow. “What?”

Jason swallowed hard and he took a breath. “Sorry. I was just going to ask you if you wanted to borrow a suit, but I’m the only one big enough that they would fit you. Except...”

Understanding passed over Clark’s face, and he turned to look at the door at the end of the hallway. He stood there for a long time, remembering.

“No. I’m... I’m bumbling Clark Kent. If I show up to a wake looking like a mess, no one’s going to think much about it.” He lifted a hand to his face and raked it over the stubble on his jaw. “I could use a mirror though.”

Jason nodded and led him down to his own room. “Take your time. I’ll wait out here.”

Clark thanked him and went into the bathroom that was attached. It didn’t take long for him to burn the beard off and wash his face to take the swelling down around his eyes. He took a moment to tuck his shirt back in and button his suit jacket.

When he emerged, he didn’t look nearly as rough.

“I feel better,” he said as he straightened his tie, making it slightly off-center on purpose.

Jason nodded. “Let’s go.”

Clark took a deep breath and sighed out heavily. Jason felt the chill through his sweater.

“Watch it, Big Blue. Your ice is getting away from you.”

Clark looked sheepish. “Sorry. I’m not all here right now.”

Jason shrugged. “I don’t mind it. The other guests might.” He offered a smile, but it slid away after a moment. “Look, I’m not good with this kind of shit either. So if you need to hide somewhere, you can go anywhere in the house. Even the undercroft. I know you know the way.”

Clark nodded. “Thank you.” He choked down more tears. “He was right about you, you know?”

Jason raised a brow. “Yeah?”

“You’re a lot like him.”

Jason snorted. “Not hardly.”

Clark shook his head. “No. You are. You’re stubborn and a pain in the ass like he was. But you’re good where it counts.”

“Like the sack? Cuz that’s--”

“Jason!” Clark barked, cutting him off. “I’m serious. Stop deflecting. You are.” He stopped both of them in the middle of the hallway and turned Jason towards him by the shoulders. He put a finger to the center of Jason’s chest. “You’re a good man, Jason. He was proud of you. Just the way you are with your Outlaws. He didn’t agree with your methods all the time, but he was proud of you for going out on your own and succeeding in doing the right thing.”

Jason just stared at him for a long moment. He didn’t have people yell at him to tell him nice things. Hell, he wasn’t used to people saying nice things to him in a regular tone of voice. This whole week had been weird with Tim being supportive and Alfred telling him he belonged here. It was like he’d stepped through a boom tube and ended up in the wrong universe.

“I don’t feel like he was,” he felt himself say. He knew it was the truth. He knew it was because it was the same thing he’d been saying like a prayer since he’d first come to the Manor.

Clark pulled him into a hug that made his back pop. “He was. He was proud of every single one of you. But you were the one that he talked about being a leader. He wanted you to succeed. Always. Just remember that he was on your side.”

Jason found himself hugging someone back for the second time that day. “Don’t get used to this hugging thing. I don’t usually tolerate it,” he mumbled.

Clark was quiet except for a small hum before he stepped back a few seconds later. “Remember what I said, Jason. The days ahead of all of us are going to be darker without him.”

 

Jason’s eyes tracked the people in the room. He watched from the wet bar in the corner as people filtered from one clique to another, exchanging social niceties to the point of needing sunglasses for the shine off their pearly whites.

He knew where everyone he cared about was at any given time, too. Just in case.

He knew they were doing the same. He felt eyes on him more than once. Familiar ones.

He was unsurprised that Clark had taken up a three foot span of the bar right beside him. The Kryptonian was doing his best to get drunk, but it didn’t seem to be working no matter how much whiskey he put away.

At least he was safe and not out trying to save people with too much on his mind to function. It was the same reason all of them had taken a hiatus from it too. Better for everyone involved if their heads were on straight when they went back out into the field. Gordon and his force of coppers were just going to have to do their jobs for a few more hours.

Tim had been cornered by Lucius and the rest of Wayne Enterprise’s elite. He looked as polite as ever on the surface, but Jason knew he was nearly rattling apart inside that Armani suit. If they hadn’t been on the board of Bruce’s company that would be his legacy to his children, they wouldn’t have been invited. Bruce had held little regard for any of them in private.

Cassandra had disappeared before anyone had arrived, but Stephanie and Carrie were entertaining the Real Housewives of Gotham with Helena. They all looked extremely interested, and their eyes were vacant as dolls set up on a shelf and left forgotten.

Alfred had been carefully guided to a chair by the hearth that was burning a low fire considering it was still autumn outside. Dick and Barbara were hovering nearby making sure he took his rest.

Jason sighed and felt his shoulders slump slightly.

It was looking like he was going to have to be the one to bear the weight of the family for the time being. Dick was worried about the surface problems. He was trying to be the big brother in the eye of the public. Tim was holding Wayne Enterprises together as the heir apparent since Dick wanted nothing to do with the business side of things. And Damian was too young to do anything but try and get past his father dying without too much trauma.

Jason wished him luck with that one without any sarcasm. He knew Damian was going to have that scar for the rest of his life. Lord knows he had three himself now from the fathers he’d lost and his mother.

It never got any easier.

A woman slid into what little space there was between him and Clark, mostly pressed up against his side with her body-by-Dupont. “This is just terrible isn’t it. Bruce was such a nice man. He always treated me well. Did you know him well?”

Jason closed his eyes and took a breath. “No. We were related in a distant manner. We were never close.”

_Liar liar._

“That’s too bad. He was a really nice man.” She sat her glass down and nestled closer to Jason. “Ya know... now that you mention it, you almost look alike.”

He felt sick. And not just from the alcohol he’d been steadily imbibing in with Clark. The pain of knowing she wasn’t just being flattering was making him feel nauseated. “I...” He looked around, drowning in open air.

Clark set his hand on her shoulder. “He’s had a rough time of it. Leave him be, please.”

She looked startled that anyone would interrupt her when she was clearly on the hunt, but at what Clark said, she stepped back. “I’m sorry. Maybe some other time.”

Jason nodded numbly.

Any other time he would have taken her up in a heartbeat, but... being compared to Bruce... Knowing she was right that they did have similar features... He felt the anxiety and depression crash in on him like a tidal wave.

As she walked away, swinging her hips like she was on a ship in rough ocean, he leaned heavily against the bar. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

Clark nodded. “Go. I’m alright. You need time alone.”

Jason met his eyes and found him to be earnest. “You sure?” he asked anyway.

Clark gave him a small smile. “Yes, I’m sure. I’m a big boy, Jason. Go take care of yourself.”

Jason didn’t bother returning the smile before making a break for it at a sedate pace away from the parlor. He took the back stairs up to his rooms and locked himself away before flopping down on his bed and having a good old fashioned panic attack.

 

Clark watched Jason all but run out the back pocket door he knew led to the kitchen. He felt bad for Jason. The poor kid had been to Hell and back, literally, and now he was dealing with the worst thing Clark could even imagine.

And it would appear he was doing it alone.

He hadn’t asked for anyone, and he hadn’t stopped to tell anyone he needed help.

Clark closed his eyes and listened in just to see if Jason was actually okay or not.

His lashes flew open when he found a heart rate entirely too high and breathing too short.

He hurried to Dick and Barbara who were near Alfred. In a low voice, he said, “Something’s wrong with Jason. His heart rate is at 104 and his breathing is too fast. He’s in his room lying down.”

Dick nodded dumbly and looked up at Clark. “What happened?”

Clark shook his head. “A girl hit on him and told him he looked like Bruce. I think he’s having a panic attack.” He was still looking in the direction of Jason’s room upstairs.

Dick’s eyes went wide, but Barbara just pushed past him and jogged toward the stairs. “Stay here. I can handle it.”

Dick swore under his breath and stopped Alfred from following Barbara. “Babs said she can handle it, Alfred. I wouldn’t want to be the one to tell her that she can’t handle something right now.”

Alfred looked conflicted but eventually conceded. “You’re right. And I should be here to help with our guests.” He looked to Clark. “Let me know if his health changes.”

Clark just nodded.

“I’m glad you stayed, Master Kent. Jason would never have asked for help,” Alfred went on. “And because Master Bruce would have wanted you here. You were the best friend he has ever had.”

Clark felt his chest constrict, but he smiled at Alfred, still listening to Jason’s heart. “I didn’t deserve his friendship, I certainly don’t deserve his family, but I’m glad I’m here.”

“You are always welcome here, Master Clark. Hopefully, you will come on happier occasions from now on.”

Tears stung at Clark’s eyes, but he found himself nodding. “Yeah. I’ll come by more often. I promise.”

Alfred smiled. “I know you keep your promises.”

Clark nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Jason told me he’s asked you to stay until evening. There are plenty of beds to be slept in here. I’m sure you could use one.” Alfred’s tone implied that Clark wasn’t going anywhere without having a nap first.

“You’re right. I could use it. I’ve been having a bit of an off streak since the accident.”

“That’s understandable. Death affects all of us differently.” He gestured to the photo of Bruce that had been hung above the hearth. “Him, most of all. So do not hesitate to come when you need to or just want to stop by. We understand.”

Clark didn’t see the point in holding his tears back. He let them roll down his cheeks. He had no one to be strong for here. No one was depending on him to hold humanity up inside these walls. “Thank you.”

 

Upstairs, Barbara knocked on Jason’s door. “Jason, it’s Barbara. I know what’s going on. I’m coming in.”

She tried the knob, but it was locked. Of course. Grimacing, she squatted in front of the door and pulled pins from her hair. She used them as makeshift lockpicks in the old lock. It gave way with a cranky click, and she pushed the door open.

Jason was lying flat on his back on the bed, breathing so hard he might as well have been flat out running from an oncoming train.

She closed the door back behind herself so no one wandering by would see him like this and went to him. She arranged herself against the headboard and then had to maneuver him to where he was lying with his head against her collar. “God, you’re heavy,” she grumbled, sinking her fingers into his hair.

His eyes were squeezed shut, and his breathing was still too fast even after all of the moving she’d done to him. Heat was rolling off of him as tears were making trails out of the corners of his eyes.

She cradled him carefully against her and just held him through it. There wasn’t much else she _could_ do. She reassured him in the softest voice she could manage as her fingers stroked through his hair.

The weight of him was smothering her, but she wasn’t about to move until he was stabilized again. She needed him calm for tonight so he could sleep. He needed the rest, and if he was going to be able to go on patrol, he needed to have the control that was so pertinent to their survival.

Eventually, his breathing evened out, and his arms went around her waist. He stayed quiet, but he squeezed her carefully.

She kept feathering her fingers through his hair as her other hand rubbed over his shoulder in slow circles. “Do you feel alright?”

He sighed against her, the heat of his breath ghosting over her exposed collarbones. “No.” He squeezed her again. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

“You were headed for a breakdown before this happened, Jay. I’m surprised it took this long. I’m glad I was around when it happened.” She gave him her own version of an awkward hug.

They had the same kind of trauma... sort of... and she had always felt like they had some sort of bond over it. She wouldn’t have given up on him over just a panic attack. Hell, they were all falling apart on the inside.

Even Bruce had his moments when he’d been a disaster. He just hadn’t known how to accept help.

She knew better than to give Jason the choice. He had a strong will just like the rest of them, but he hadn’t ever told her to keep to herself where he was concerned. He always accepted a hand when he needed it. Even if he didn’t always say thank you like he had a moment ago.

He shifted to the side so he was no longer crushing her but still had his arms around her waist. “Could’ve waited my whole life to not have that breakdown.”

She laughed quietly, scooting down to lie next to him, and laid her hand on his face where it was close to hers. “We all have moments when we have to just let it go. I’ve had the big ugly breakdown before. You just have to let it happen sometimes when you’re in a safe place so it doesn’t endanger your life or someone else’s.”

He put his hand over hers and smiled at her. His eyes were red ringed, and he looked even more exhausted than he had earlier. But the smile was real. It was a rare gift from him. “Thanks, Babs. I’m trying...” He swallowed. “I’m trying to be better about it all.”

She rubbed her thumb over his cheekbone. “I know you are, Jay. We’re all here to help you.”

“Yeah. I know. I’m trying to remember that.” He sighed. “I need to tell Roy and Kori what’s going on. They don’t know where I am. I just kind of up and left.”

Her eyes widened slightly. “Jeez, Jay.” She sighed. “Call Kori. She’ll understand. She’ll tell Roy.”

He nodded, hair sticking to the pillow. “Yeah. I know. I’ll do it before I sleep.”

“Good idea.”

He looked at her for a long time in the quiet as he got himself back in some semblance of order mentally. “Dick’s a lucky guy.” He shook his head slightly. “Can’t believe I’m saying this, but I hope he doesn’t fuck it up with you this time because he sure as hell doesn’t deserve you.”

She blinked. “And you do?” she asked, defensive.

He snorted. “I wouldn’t have deserved you _before_ I hit the wrong side of a grave marker, Babs.” He paused. “He’s the only person I can think of that even comes close to being good enough for you.” His face was earnest, no longer teasing.

She felt her throat constrict. “Yeah, well, maybe in another lifetime we would be different people.”

“I don’t have the luxury of even wishing for that kind of good, Babs, but I’ll take it for a rainy day.” He sat up and wiped his face to get rid of the residual salt trails. “You should go make sure Damian hasn’t strangled anyone yet. I’m okay now.”

She knew he was still hurting for a myriad of reasons, but she also knew when to leave him alone. She got up and straightened her dress. “You know where to find me, Jay.”

He nodded and watched the door close. “Yeah. Thanks, Babs.”

 

When she was gone, he put his head in his hands much like he had that morning and just sat there.

He’d been telling the truth when he had said he didn’t deserve her. That didn’t mean he hadn’t thought about a white picket fence with her a few times. Idle fantasy when the PTSD dreams let him have a break.

Because who wouldn’t want to end up with Barbara Gordon? Smart with a mouth that gave him a run for his money and absolutely drop dead gorgeous. Killer combination. Natch.

He sighed and really did hope Dick would take care of her this time. She deserved the best of life after what had happened to her. He wished he could give her that, but he had too much blood on his hands.

He wasn’t above getting Dick’s blood on his hands if he ever hurt her again either. He might actually enjoy it, even.

He rose and changed into a comfortable pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. Trainers were tied onto his feet, and he stealthily made his way to the Cave to go run on the treadmill. It would give his mind something else to focus on.

He paused when he saw the lights were already on, and he heard rhythmic soft thumps coming from the training center.

He walked around the corner and saw Cass dressed to train and looking like she had been there for a while, sweat pouring off of her with her short hair tied up in a ponytail that was falling to stick to her neck and face. She was busy pounding away at a bag on a heavy set of chains.

He went to stand behind the bag and held it still while she moved through another set of punches and kicks. When she finished it, he signed, “Are you alright?”

She nodded as she got her breathing to slow. Her hands moved quickly. “I don’t like people. You know that. It’s hard for me to communicate without one of you there with me. It’s just better if I’m down here. Besides. I haven’t trained in... since...”

“Yeah. I understand. We’ve all been lax. We’re going out tonight, though. Back on patrol. We’re going to meet here around sundown. Make sure you get some rest.” He was still slow with signing, but he had put in a lot of hours with her to get it right.

She was still breathing hard enough that he knew she’d been pushing herself. She pushed her hair behind her ears and used a towel to dry herself a bit. “I will. I just needed to clear my head.”

He nodded. “I can understand that. Want to talk about it?”

She moved to sit on the seat of the bench press and he took up residence on the lat machine. “I lost my father once before. It doesn’t get any easier.”

He shook his head. “I was thinking the same earlier.”

He hadn’t seen her cry. Ever. That didn’t change now. She was as calm and collected as she always was. He saw the pain behind her dark eyes though. “I wish I could say it gets easier, but it really doesn’t. It just dulls over time.”

She rubbed her taped palms together and looked down at her toes. After a long pause, she signed again, “At least you’re not lying to me and telling me it will all be okay.”

Jason laughed. “Yeah. I get not wanting to hear it. Eventually, it doesn’t hurt quite as much. But the pain never goes away completely.”

She met his eyes. “Again. Thank you for your honesty.”

“You can always count on me for that if nothing else.”

She gave him a short nod before rising. “I think I will go sleep if we are to patrol tonight.”

He raised a hand in farewell but sat for a few moments longer on the bench until he heard the door shut and the thunk of the lock.

He knew he was going to have to put himself into such a state of exhaustion that he would just pass out if he made it back upstairs. He didn’t have the strength to deal with the PTSD dreams that liked to show up at the most inopportune times.

He just didn’t want to do that in front of anyone else.

He pulled the halo around his neck and put his earbuds in, climbing onto the treadmill. He didn’t bother with stretching. He was going to need the ache.

Deep breaths before he pressed play on his phone and music that matched the depths of his rage poured into his ears and drowned out the punching of his heart against his ribs.

 

Dick was trying his hardest to keep it together in front of the guests. He was more exhausted than he had let on earlier. With Jason disappearing, it felt more real than it had before. He had been in survival mode for the past three days to get plans straight with a hundred different people. He’d been holding everything together in the public eye, making the hard phone calls since he was the oldest.

He’d called everyone except Jason. Because Alfred had called him before anyone.

It made a weird sort of sense. Given what they’d all decided upon in the moments between distress today.

He sighed as the last of the guests finally filtered out and left just the family alone.

When the front door closed, they all shifted imperceptibly. The exhaustion became real, but they came back to their truest selves. Furniture became forts to hold as they melted into the upholstery like their strings had been cut.

Staff were still taking care of empty glasses and small plates but left them alone. It was almost as if they’d become part of the rooms they were residing in.

“You guys should go to bed. I’ll make sure the staff are all seen out,” Tim said from the corner. “It shouldn’t be too much longer for them.”

“Are you sure, Tim? You’ve been up just as long as the rest of us,” Steph countered.

He shrugged. “I don’t plan on doing much tonight. I know you guys have some plans. I’ll probably be on the computers trying to make sure WE doesn’t fall apart.”

Message received loud and clear. At least they wouldn’t have to worry about Alfred overextending himself when he was just as tired as they were.

“You heard him. Let’s go,” Barbara said, getting up from her chair.

Everyone else grumbled, including Alfred and Clark, but eventually all filtered into the upstairs where their rooms were.

Dick was the last to go, turning back to Tim for a moment. “You know where to find us if you need a hand.”

Tim smiled slightly. “I think I can handle a bunch of bus boys. Go get some sleep. I’ll be there when this is taken care of. We’ve got a lot to deal with tonight. Real life starts again.”

Dick nodded. “Yeah. It’s going to be weird without him.”

Tim’s smile fell. “Don’t I know it.”

Dick wished he could bear it for all of them. “You know where I am if you need me. Don’t hesitate. It’s going to be hard on all of us.”

Tim waved a hand in dismissal. “Go sleep. I’ll be fine.”

Dick sighed. “Alright. Night, Tim.”

“Night, Dick. Tell Babs goodnight too for me.”

Dick felt the flush crawl up his collar. He shouldn’t have been surprised. He lived with a family of detectives. “Sure. Sleep well.”

A hum followed him out of the room.

 

Thankfully for the rest of the human occupants of the Manor, Dr Leslie Thompkins had been at the wake and had passed a bottle of tranquilizers to Alfred on the sly.

“Just so you can all get some rest,” she had assured.

As the majority of them huddled in the hall--sans Jason and Tim--Alfred passed out the appropriate dosages, and they all headed to their rooms.

He stopped outside of their newest addition’s room and knocked.

“Yes, Alfred?”

He shouldn’t have been surprised Clark knew it was him. He had been around the metahuman long enough to know a heartbeat was an easy thing to hear. He pushed the door open to find Clark in a borrowed pair of pajamas sitting against the headboard.

“I just wanted to pop in and see if you needed anything before we all bed down.”

A heavy sigh met the question, and Clark pulled his glasses off to rub a hand through his hair. “There are a lot of answers to that question, but you can’t help me with any of them.”

Alfred gave a sad smile and nodded. “Yes, I know, but I am inclined to offer.” He took hold of the knob again. “I should let you rest.”

“Alfred?”

He stopped in the midst of pulling the door shut and turned to look at Clark. “Yes?”

“Could I have a word. I feel you deserve to know something,” Clark said, standing now and looking apprehensive.

“Of course.” He stepped in and shut the door for privacy.

He was prepared for nearly anything really. Bad news came in threes, after all.

He _was_ \--however--surprised by what Clark confessed to him looking for all the world like he was terrified of an old human.

“I told Jason earlier in the garden when I got here. You all deserve to know. I understand if you don’t want me here--”

Alfred shook his head. “Clark, I am never going to turn Bruce’s best friend away. He was my son. My answer would have been the same had he been alive when you told me...” His throat grew tight. “You are part of this family. I just wish you had more time together.”

Clark wiped at the tears trekking down his face with the tail of his shirt. “Thank you...”

Alfred went to him and pulled the son-in-law he would never have into a hug. “You both deserved to be happy. I hope you may find it again someday.”

Clark seemed to shrink but hugged back and took a shuddering breath. “Me too, Alfred.”

 

When the serving company employees were finally all out of the house, Tim locked everything down and leaned back against the last door he’d secured. He let his head fall back against the wood with a soft thud and sighed.

Exhaustion sank its claws into his bones and threatened to drag him to the floor where he stood and have him sleep against the door.

He peeled his eyes open and looked forward into the empty kitchen that was spotless as if no one had ever cooked in it.

He thought of breakfast and the family spending time together. Then his mind wandered to the night before with his time spent as Jason’s Oracle as Red Hood had covered a great deal of Gotham on his own in a quest for information on the driver that had killed Bruce.

Despite themselves, they made a good team.

He pressed his palms and fingers against the wood behind him and felt the grain of the door as he remembered.

Jason had been quick on his bike, zipping through the streets to hit contact after contact to find the killer or at least infomation. Tim had explicitly ignored the broken bones and wounds that said contacts acquired when they didn’t cooperate with Red Hood. It didn’t really matter to him at this point how they got the information. He just wanted answers. He was too tired and distraught to care for much anymore.

Jason popping up with a name and the location of the guy before midnight had been a godsend.

Anonymous tip to Gordon had been rung in before he had tried to get some sleep. If only it were that easy, really. He’d lain awake for an hour, trying desperately to sleep. In the end, he’d wandered to the kitchen to grab a snack and some milk when he’d heard Jason slip into the Cave through the entrance in the study.

Out of sleep-deprived curiosity, he’d followed the second son to the Cave and had watched in abject unease as he’d had five rounds with the Cave wall instead of one of the punching bags.

He knew Jason struggled with his own ghosts; his own demons.

He’d told Jason on more than one occasion that he understood. He’d meant it. Death was a hard thing to deal with on a good day. Dealing with your own was outside of most people’s purview.

So he’d watched and made sure Jason didn’t completely destroy his hands. He’d hidden away in an alcove as Jason left the Cave, not wanting to give away that he’d watched Jason. More for Jason’s pride than his own need for concealment.

Sleep had escaped him until near dawn as he lie awake thinking of the blood dripping to the floor as Jason had leaned against the wall and just stood there panting.

He had wanted to go and ask him what had driven him to it. He had wanted to dress the wounds and listen to whatever demon had gotten particularly close to have Jason fighting that hard.

Instead, he had pretended like he hadn’t seen a thing. He was no longer sure he was doing either of them any favours.

He sighed again and straightened from the door. Maybe Jay would talk about it now that he’d had some time to cool down from whatever it was. If he was still awake, that was.

Everyone else had collected a tranq from Alfred. He could only assume Jason had too if he hadn’t already been asleep from the panic attack.

“Stop giving yourself reasons to go see him, Drake. You already have enough,” he mumbled to himself and headed for the stairs.

When he got to Jason’s door, it was close so he gently knocked in case Jay _was_ asleep. After a moment of no response, he opened it far enough to stick his head in just to check on him.

Except, Jason was nowhere to be found.

Brow furrowed, he checked the bathroom, but it, too, was empty. He had cleared the rest of the house before securing it. Maybe he had gone out for a drive?

He pulled his phone out to send a message off just to check in but heard an artificial bird chirp from Jason’s nightstand a second later.

That left one place...

He returned downstairs and went to the study. The clock let him through, and he made good time down the narrow steps.

When he arrived in the Cave, he heard nothing but the occasional tittering of bats and the low electric hum of equipment. He was used to both.

Confused, he walked to the computer bay and checked Jason’s tracking unit for good measure. Still in the Mansion.

Where?

He turned to go back upstairs and saw a pair of long legs splayed out to either side of the bench press’s padded seat. Walking forward warily, he found Jason.

Fast asleep.

Sweat still stained his t-shirt dark around his collar, and his headphones were in his ears.

Tim shook his head in mild amusement. At least he was resting.

He searched for something to cover Jason with, knowing it could get chilly in the Cave. He came up with a shock blanket from the medbay. He covered him with it and stood there for a long moment, considering.

Dick and Barbara had made a lot of valid points when they had cornered him alone earlier in between socialite fluttering. He couldn’t really find anything to object to. Out of all of them, he seemed to be the least surprised by the conclusion they had all come to.

He let out a slow breath before turning out everything but the low lights and headed for his room to try once more, desperately, for sleep.

 

Jason woke to someone gently shaking him awake with a hand on his shoulder. His eyes flipped open, and he reached up to pull the earbuds out of his ears.

Dick stood over him with two mugs of coffee held in one hand by the handles. “Evening,” he greeted before handing over the mug that had just black coffee in it.

Jason sat up, grimacing at the stiffness in his lower back from falling asleep on the unforgiving surface of the slightly padded bench seat. A blanket fell into his lap as he took the coffee and scooted back so Dick could sit at the other end. “Thanks.” He lifted the edge of the blanket. “This you?”

Dick took the offer and sat, quietly sipping his coffee as he shook his head. It was unlike him to not offer small talk or question why Jason had chosen such a strange place to sleep.

Jason took the quiet peace offering for what it was and extended his own in a question he wouldn’t have asked otherwise. “What are you doing down here? I thought you would be asleep still.”

Dick shook his head. “It’s nearly nightfall.”

Jason’s brows furrowed, and he pulled his phone out of his pocket. Pressing the power button, he found a black screen. He sighed. “Must have died when I left Pandora on.”

Dick shrugged. “It’s alright. I think everyone’s still getting their heads on. They should be down in the next hour or so.”

Jason nodded and rose to go to the computer bay and plugged his phone in. It made a soft dinging noise and lit up before going dark again. “I’m going to shower and drink another pot of coffee.” He saluted Dick with his mug. “Thanks for the first one.”

Dick saluted back. “It’s the least I can do for you.”

Jay raised a brow at the wording but didn’t say anything as he headed for the stairs to go get cleaned up.

 

Dick watched him go before he went to the computers and woke them all up. He sat down and started compiling the reports the systems hadn’t stopped collecting over the last few days. He could see that Tim’s fingerprints were on the last few to come in. They were named and filed in the way Tim usually used.

As usual, Tim was the one of them that had his shit together and hadn’t left everything to rot like the rest of them had.

He sighed and rubbed over his face. He was going to have to be better. He couldn’t leave Tim to shoulder all of this anymore. He knew--in the back of his mind--that he shouldn’t have left Bruce alone with it for as long as he had. He couldn’t go back now, though. He could only try to posthumously correct a past wrong by not doing it to Tim.

Maybe Gordon could do with a new Officer. He at least knew he’d been good at his last job. He might not have been the most punctual, but he’d at least been less terrible than most others at catching the bad guys.

Considering what a cesspool Blüdhaven was, he’d never had a shortage of bad guys to catch. But could he leave her? Could he leave his roost there to come back to Gotham knowing how bad the Haven was?

Something to think about.

It felt like he should bring it up with Barbara since they were trying this thing out again. She’d probably get pissed if he did it without at least talking to her about it first. Communication had always been her requirement. She had dealt in knowledge for so long that not having it drove her crazy.

He couldn’t really fault her for it, either.

So did he leave the Haven to its fate or did he come home to Gotham and help them recover her heart from the clutches of the bastards that came in waves to try and strangle her?

He knew what his heart wanted, but what would serve the greater good?

He didn’t know the answer. Maybe she would.

He pressed his thumb into the fingerprint reader and started making notes on a particularly gruesome murder. Bruce’s were still there in black. His own showed up in a bright blue that had been designated to him by Bruce when he’d first become Nightwing.

The screen wavered in his vision, and he blinked to clear away the exhaustion. Instead, tears dripped down his cheeks. In surprise, he reached up to touch them.

“Oh...” He hadn’t cried in the days since Bruce’s death. He’d been too focused on his family and making sure they were all going to be alright. He hadn’t had any time for himself to grieve.

Once it started, he couldn’t stop the tears.

Instead of fighting it, he just put his face in his hands and let them come. He knew it would do no one any good to hold back everything he was feeling.

In the moments that followed, the pain snatched at the bones of his ribs, cracking and shattering them only to pull them free of his body and bare his soft pink heart and lungs to the vicious sharpness of heartbreak. He didn’t know if he would survive it. Not this time.

 

Tim woke to the sound of the shower next door to his rooms starting. He groaned in annoyance and threw a pillow at the wall between his and Jason’s rooms before it actually registered with him what day it was and the last time he’d seen Jason.

He looked at the time and realized it was just after dark. Scrubbing his face, he sat up and managed to get his feet under him. Wobbling to the door, he ran a hand through his hair and got a hold on who he was again.

He went to Jason’s door and slipped in to wait on him and maybe have a chat if Jason was feeling up to it. He had things he needed to talk to him about. He sat on the made bed Jason hadn’t slept in the night before and took the pillow to hug to hold himself up.

“Tim?”

He jerked awake and squeezed the pillow so tight, his hands cramped slightly.

Jason was standing in the doorway of the bathroom with a towel around his hips staring at him in confusion.

“Tim?” he asked again. “You alright?”

He wiped at his eyes with one hand to cover his blush and nodded. “Yeah. Heard you moving around. Came to check on you. Fell asleep again.”

Jason snorted and moved into the room to stand next to him. “Came to check on me, huh?” He reached out and smoothed a hand through Tim’s hair to get it to lay down.

Tim nodded and looked up at him. “I found you in the Cave passed out on the bench press. I was worried about you.”

Jason offered him a small smile. “Shouldn’t worry about me, babybird.”

“I can’t help it, Jay,” he mumbled.

Jay leaned down and kissed the side of his head in affection before going to pull jeans out of his closet. “At least someone does.”

Tim looked down at his lap where he was still squeezing the pillow to give Jay enough privacy to pull pants on. He decided it was best to change the subject. “So we need to set up patrols for tonight. I have a few thoughts on it.”

“I’m glad someone does. I’ve got no idea what to do other than go on our regular routes, but that leaves a lot of ground where...” He cleared his throat and reached into the closet to pull out a long sleeve shirt.

Tim glanced up at the noise and noticed a long jagged scar spanning from near Jay’s spine to nearly his hipbone on his front. He bit his lip both from the subject at hand and the knowledge of what Jason had endured. “I... yeah. I’ve been thinking of how to cover that. I’ll lay it out on the map in the Cave when we’re all together.”

Jason pulled his shirt on and nodded, covering the myriad of scars on his torso. A band t-shirt stretched across his chest with some kid in a white t-shirt standing on rocks in front of a crashing ocean. “Sounds good. Why don’t we go get some breakfast and some more coffee since you look deader than I feel?”

Tim stuck his tongue out at him. “I come in here to check on you and you treat me like this. So rude. See if I ever check in with you again.”

Jason laughed and walked over to him to offer him a hand. “You act like I’m not just as fucked up as you right now. I just hide it better. Come on, littlebird. We’ve got work to do.”

Slapping his palm to Jason’s, Tim groaned and let himself be pulled from the bed. “Fine. But only because you’re all hopelessly lost without me.”

“That’s probably true.” Jason tucked Tim under his arm and steered them down to the kitchen to collect their dinner.

 

Clark looked up from the table when he heard Jason and Tim push through the flap door into the kitchen. He smiled when they seemed to be in better spirits despite being as tired as he was.

Alfred looked over from where he was plating whatever it was that smelled amazing.

Jason ruffled Tim’s hair and sent him towards the table while he made a beeline for Alfred and started helping.

Clark was impressed that Jason was allowed since Alfred had shooed him away with his spatula. Jason just got a stern look before Alfred gave in and let him carry the plates to the table.

When all of the places were set and coffee had been retrieved for Tim by Jason with enough sugar to put him into a diabetic coma, Alfred pressed a button on an intercom before sitting at the table.

It took only a few minutes for all of the children to filter into the kitchen from whatever reaches of the house they might have been in.

They all collected coffee and it amused Clark. It seemed all of Bruce’s kids had a caffeine problem. He couldn’t really blame them at the moment though.

He felt oddly out of place at this table with the ten of them. This was a place he had sat many times before with Bruce and his family in different iterations of this same group of kids. It had never been all of them.

He wished Bruce was here to see them all together again; to sit at the table with all of his children and enjoy a meal with them.

There were a lot of things he was wishing for right about now.

Alfred leaned over and put a hand on his forearm to garner his attention. His voice was low as he said, “If you want to tell them, this would be as good a time as any. They are rarely together like this.”

Clark swallowed hard. “I don’t want to ruin their dinner feeling sorry for me.”

Alfred shook his head. “They’re feeling sorry for themselves. Feeling sorry for you will make them focus on something else. Besides, they love you. They would want to know they have even more reasons to do so.”

Clark nodded and straightened in his chair.

Terror closed his throat, and he could feel his hands shaking. He had stared down everything just short of gods and hadn’t flinched.

Ten kids who were all busy chugging coffee and stuffing their faces were much more intimidating.

He rolled his own glass of milk between his palms and took a deep breath. It came out a bit snowy, and Jason looked over with an eyebrow raised. Turns out, he wasn’t the only one. Everyone else looked over at about the same time.

“What’s up, Big Blue? You’re doing the frosty touch thing again,” Jason pointed out.

Clark felt his throat close up again, but he managed to get it out past the tightness. “I... uh... I have something I feel you should all know.”

Jason gave him a solid nod. “Whatever it is, I’m sure we can handle it.”

The rest of them all nodded along with him.

He took a breath, and then came out to Bruce’s children.

It took a long moment for it to sink in. He could see it. Jason had been the same when he’d first told him.

And then Damian shocked every single one of them by getting up and coming around the table to hug Clark around the neck.

Bewildered by the youngest’s sympathy, he wrapped an arm around his waist and squeezed him. He wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

It took only a moment before all of them were clustered around Clark’s chair and in on a big group hug that should have been smothering.

Instead, it made him as strong as the noonday sun.

He had never been more thankful that Bruce had brought him into his family as he was at that very moment.

From the midst of many arms and shoulders, Clark saw Jason looking down at his plate with a distantly pained look on his face. He wanted to reach out and draw him in but knew Jason hadn’t ever really been that person. Not since his death, anyway.

Later. He would talk to him later.

For the moment, he had a whole family squeezing the stuffing out of him because--as usual--Alfred was right.

 

After dinner was cleared away and dishes were put into the washer, the lot of them wandered down into the Cave together and gathered around the projection table where Tim pulled up the map of their usual routes.

Jason wandered over the bay of computers to collect his phone and found the text from Tim after clicking it on. He felt a stupid smile touch over the corner of his mouth before he tuned back into what everyone was saying.

“So we need to reassign some parts of Gotham for patrols.”

Clark stepped forward. “I can help until you get it figured out.”

Tim shook his head before anyone else could say anything. “Thanks, Clark, but we need to do this. We’re always willing to accept backup from you, but this is going to be us from here on out. We need to have it figured out for the most part before we go back into the field.”

Clark didn’t look too happy, but he seemed mollified that they wouldn’t turn away all help.

Tim went back to fiddling with his laptop and coloured sectors started popping up. “Dick, you’re blue, as usual. Steph, purple. Damian, green. I’m red. Duke, yellow. Babs, dark purple. Cass, orange. Helena has asked not to be given a route.” She crossed her arms over her chest as if expecting a fight, but everyone nodded. And then a big black sector fell over most of Gotham. “Black is Batman.”

Jason arched a brow. “What?”

Everyone turned to look at him.

And then it hit what Tim had meant.

“No. You can’t ask that of me.” He backed away a step and his ass hit the edge of the computer bay.

Dick was the one that stepped forward. “We’re not asking. We’re telling you that we want you to be his successor. You’re our choice. It’s up to you whether or not you take it.”

He could feel the panic clawing up his throat. The doubt threatened to strangle him.

Tim stepped in front of him, the glow of his tablet lighting up the curve of his jaw from underneath. “Jay, we chose you because of how you’ve treated all of us the last few days. You took on the role without anyone asking you to. You’ve taken care of every single one of us. Even Clark. We didn’t ask that of you. You saw a problem and you fixed it. You’re our choice because you deserve it, not because we’re comparing you to him.”

Tim gestured to everyone behind him. “We want you to be Batman because Bruce believed in you; because we believe in you. Not because we want you to be him.”

Jason stared Tim in the eyes, trying to find answers in those baby blues. He shifted to each of them and tried to find the same answers in each of them. Helena was the only one that didn't seem to be okay with the idea.

He swallowed hard past his cotton mouth. “I... You _all_ want me to...?” He couldn’t bring himself to complete the thought.

All of them nodded. Even Alfred.

He looked back to Tim. He found something there that had him nodding. “I’ll try...”

Tim smiled. “That’s all we want.”

 

Jason sat in one of the changing stalls for a long moment as he tried to comprehend what exactly had just happened. All of them were sure he could handle this. He wasn’t so sure.

He’d spent the last... God... Fifteen years? Hating the suit and everything it stood for. Could he really do this?

He wasn’t so sure.

He’d never been one to quit though. He’d made a promise to Tim that he’d try. So he stood and started pulling on armor that was a smidge too loose, but that could be corrected easily with some tweaks. It was only the inch or so in height Bruce had on him that was throwing it off. He could deal for the night.

He pulled the cowl and cape on, leaving the cowl down around his throat.

He caught himself in the mirror and had to do a double take. He got it, then. He was the only one really equipped to deal with this. He could carry the weight for the foreseeable future.

Dick didn’t have the luxury, Tim was too busy running more than one organization, and Damian was far too young. He was the obvious choice.

He was the choice they had all made together.

He had to remember that as they all went into patrol together.

They wanted him here with this cowl on. They wanted him here speaking with _his_ voice and delivering out justice. They trusted him to stick to the code. Because Batman was more than just Justice and Vengeance. He was hope too.

Somehow, he’d forgotten that.

He pushed the curtain to the side and saw that the rest of them were already dressed since they hadn’t been having an existential crisis in their stalls.

They all looked over and froze as a group.

He decided the look scared him more than he was comfortable with.

“What? Did the cape get stuck in my belt or something?”

Duke snorted and Dick cracked a smile.

Tim came to him and held out a small package meant to slide into a pocket of the belt. “Just try not to trip over it. Here. These are some new smoke pellets I’ve been working on. The particles should stick to anyone that gets stuck in the cloud. We can track them with the system Barbara came up with.”

Jay took them and tucked them away. “Pretty spiffy, Timbo. Thanks. Everyone get these?”

He shook his head. “No. They’re a prototype. You’re more likely to run into anyone than the rest of us.”

Jay nodded. “Probably.”

“You need to go see Dad, Jason. The light’s been on since the accident. He’s getting suspicious, I’m sure,” Barbara said from behind him. Her cowl was already in place.

He sighed. “Right. I have to put on the spooky persona and disappear, right? Been a while, but I think I can manage.”

She smiled. “You can handle it.”

He reached back and pulled the cowl up over his face, lenses coming online as he calibrated to everything going on around him. “Everyone’s comms working? Everyone know where they’re supposed to be?”

Nods on all sides with a few notes made to add to his mental list of things that could go wrong.

As people started disappearing out of the Cave in waves, Clark pulled him aside. “Do me a favour and lose the cowl for a minute.”

“Sure, Clark,” he said and pushed it back from his face again. He could understand. He’d fallen in love with the first guy to wear it. He could only imagine how much that would hurt to look into and hear another voice come out.

Clark sighed but smiled. “Congratulations, I suppose. I think he’d be happy with their choice.”

Jay shrugged. “We’ll see if I live up to the hype first.”

Clark laid a hand on his shoulder, heavy even through the armor. “You will. When you have a few months under your belt, I’d like to introduce you to the League.”

Jay’s eyes flared. “I...”

“Think about it. No immediate decision necessary. You know where to find me.” He turned him away towards the car. “Go. Gotham needs you.”

Jason stumbled slightly at the shock that came with that bomb but pulled the cowl back on and motioned to Damian to follow him to the Batmobile. “Let’s go, kiddo.”

Damian opened the top on the car and they slid in.

“Never drove this thing with permission before,” Jay said.

Damian almost smiled.

 

Chatter filled the quiet left by the absence of sound in the Narrows. It was quiet in the Narrows for a change, but he had all of them nattering on in his head about what was happening where.

It was nice to have voices rolling around in his mind that weren’t his own. Voices he could put names to.

Alfred checked in to let them all know there was a robbery in progress. Cass and Steph decided to tag team that one. He let them.

They all knew how to call for backup.

At the moment, he was curled up on a gargoyle looking out over Gotham.

Her beautiful, glittering face looked back in the night from the lights and the moon that was peaking through the rain clouds that had decided to move out for a while. He took a deep breath and felt her heartbeat in the soles of his boots. He could hear her voice singing to him in the sirens that followed the police scanners announcement of the robbery. More heartbeats.

More life going on as he watched and hoped that he would be enough to keep her safe.

He would have to be enough. His family believed he was.

-End-

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Death and Family](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11822682) by [Seaflower](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seaflower/pseuds/Seaflower)




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